knees
kiss the pavement
shadows and red curtains
fall
untie my hair
waterfalls of light
his smile
a conversation about home
poetry days and nights
written deep on skin
I like to talk
it happened after I touched the orange light
the second time.
primul gest-
aprind o lumină
în cameră
sau în mine
depinde de culorile de pe moodtrackerul meu;
azi am citit poezie
o caut adesea în persoanele de pe stradă,
în luminile din noapte,
sau în zgomotul orașului;
sunt tot haotică,
nu reușesc să fiu altcumva
de 10 luni…
așa eram și înainte,
nu m-am schimbat deloc,
doar că atunci trăiam mai bine poezia pe care o scriu acum
la miezul nopții
acum scriu mai rar,
trăiesc în gânduri și petrec timp cu blue,
mi-a ținut prea mult companie
și m-am obișnuit așa
mănânc,
dorm,
dansez cu blue,
cu frica mea.
My emotions-
wild rivers
I bask into them
and sometimes the water sets me on fire
Just like Bukowski’s Burning in water, Drowning in flame
And when I put my lips on you
You feel my desire-
madness to posses
the woman
with pale skin
and red cheeks while she’s making love;
the poet
that writes for you late at night
when everybody’s sleeping
I press my mouth onto yours,
and I scream with pleasure…
And then I scream again-
this time, in the empty space
But you can’t hear
anguish
delirium
and fear
Absolute silence…
I could play a mad woman
in a movie,
I look just like that
static and numb
Until I come back to you and I open my mouth once more
This time, a different movement of my lips
I whisper slowly and you understand
We need a dreamcatcher, love…
once, I must’ve been a chandelier
lighting people’s heart
witnessing their passions
hanging-
balanced
swinging-
glorious
breaking-
by a brutal touch
fragil
once, I must’ve been a chandelier
o să port rochii ușor de dat jos,
rochii în nuanțe deschise pentru zilele luminoase
și niciuna pentru întunericul nopții
sărută-mi gâtul
ușor, ca o rază de soare
pentru zilele cu gust de sare de mare
sărută-mi gâtul
violent, apăsat
pentru zilele în care mă dorești prea tare
există oare
vreun sens
pentru cuvintele
prea tare?
îl caut adesea desenat în palmele tale
le cer în mod repetat să-mi arate,
le rog deliric să-mi atingă buzele însetate
prea tare, cu intensitate.
A hand full of daisies
and the sun in her smile
a different kind of oasis
rosemary and thyme
warm hands
cool sheets
home in the time of lavender
apricot lips
she was asking for one thing
give me your now, if you want to…
forever doesn’t interests me
since forever is a fairy tale
with vampires
and immortal life
I have days of peace
and fevers
I have cold hands,
but my body burns
under your touch
My cheeks burn
quite easily
my fingers are looking for yours,
my nails crave your back,
and my nose loves your scent,
my whole being seeks destruction
when I open up
my box with emotions,
my soul craves balance
and I find it in your arms
sometimes I find it difficult
to speak my truth
and show my fears,
but we have beautiful bodies
who combine perfectly…
To love is good
under the starless sky
in a man’s arms
To break is good
under the touch of a hand
in a bed with white sheets
To drink is good
when you long for someone
and you cry poetry
To talk is healing
when you kept quiet for years
and you almost forgot the sound of your own voice
To sing is good
For you beloved, in his kitchen
when you’re making pancakes
To sleep is better
when you read together and you fall asleep on his chest
and he stays still so you can keep dreaming…
Love is consuming
like a hot summer day that leaves you sweaty and tired
but blissful and with a foolish smile on your face…
he got bored of the sound of the waves
he got bored to play the same piano
he got bored to undress an ecstatic body
sometimes too ecstatic,
other times static
he got bored of the hot days of summer
he wanted to feel the cool touch of winter
on his chest
he got bored of the predictable
and the safe place he had
he wanted more
and he had magic in his hands
I had poems only when he put magic into me
this is another thing of which
he got bored…
pe pielea ta,
povești de necitit
pe umerii mei goi,
îți lași săruturile nestingherit,
iar eu citesc povestea ta
și mă opresc la pagina cu mine
dau mai departe,
cutreier râuri noi,
pete de cerneală
impregnate adânc în foi
și-ajung tot la mine…
în timpul ăsta tu te joci cu un altfel de infinit
îl sorbi de pe buzele mele rapid
și mă săruți ca și cum timpul s-ar fi oprit…